


Lost and Found

by Inell



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Bloodplay, Drama, Romance, The Quidditch Pitch: More Than Two, Threesome, Threesome or Moresome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-08-13
Updated: 2006-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-26 07:12:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10782069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Inell/pseuds/Inell
Summary: They were lost and drifting until they found one another   Hermione/Draco/Harry





	Lost and Found

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Annie, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Quidditch Pitch](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Quidditch_Pitch), which went offline in 2015 when the hosting expired, at a time I was not able to renew it. I contacted Open Doors, hoping to preserve the archive using an old backup, and began importing these works as an Open Doors-approved project in April 2017. Open Doors e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Quidditch Pitch collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thequidditchpitch/profile).

  
Author's notes: For [](http://catvampcrazines.livejournal.com/profile)[**catvampcrazines**](http://catvampcrazines.livejournal.com/) who requested this pairing during my Smutty McSmut request.  


* * *

“He’s wrong. He’s always been wrong, hasn’t he?”

Hermione sighed as the blond looked at her, gray eyes seeking answers she couldn’t give without knowing the questions. Her eyes cut to Harry, who looked so lost and confused, and she understood why she’d received the frantic owl from her best friend. Something had happened, though she had not a clue exactly what, which made it very difficult to know how to make things better.

“Mal-Draco,” she said softly, stumbling over his first name in a way that made her cringe. They’d been intimate for six months yet she still found the entire situation a bit surreal, still found it difficult reconciling the Draco she now knew with the insulting little prat she’d endured for seven years at Hogwarts. She loved him but still faltered sometimes when saying his first name.

Closing the door behind her, she walked to the bed, kneeling before him and taking his hands. She felt him tense at her touch, half expecting him to call her a filthy Mudblood and push her away. It was a fear she always had in the back of her mind: arriving home to find Harry and Draco together and neither wanting her anymore. After all, they’d started first. Hate fueled encounters that left Harry bruised and sitting funny during their last year at school. She’s suspected but not said a word. After all, Harry deserved some sort of release from the life he had not chosen for himself.

It was only after school, after Voldemort’s defeat, after she and Harry had decided to share a flat because they were both lonely and the only family either had save for Ron, who was apprenticing with Bill in Egypt, that things had changed. They’d move in together and Draco had begun sleeping over. She’d listened to them at night, not sure if they were fucking or fighting from the sounds that came from Harry’s room.

She’d even tried being subtle, leaving a book open to the proper way to cast a silencing charm since Harry had always been rather clueless about the basic charms despite having great talent for complex spells. Her hint had not succeeded. If anything, they’d gotten louder, more public with their displays, snogging in front of her (a rough clashing of lips, biting and bleeding, nothing gentle in their behavior at all) and squeezing their bits right in the middle of the sitting room, sending her to her room to seek escape from the confusing feelings that came from watching them, lying in bed touching herself as she listened to the sounds of their fucking.

It had been three months before Harry had turned to her one night before she could retreat, his bottom lip swollen and bleeding, hair messier than normal, glasses askew, green eyes glittering with something she’d only ever imagined seeing in her fantasies. He’d held out his hand, not needing to say a word, the two of them beyond words years ago. They understood each other in a way no one, not even Ron or Draco, ever would. It was a look that said _I want you, I love you, join us and make me happy_.

Before she’d had a chance to think, to deal with the sudden realization of what he was asking by holding out his hand, large hands with smooth palms had moved up her legs, starting at her ankles and continuing until they reached her upper thighs. Startled, she’d looked down into burning gray eyes, stormy and passionate, and she’d felt herself caught in their web, trapped by desire and emotions she was still too young and naïve to understand despite being nearly twenty. One slight nod of her head was all it took to change all of their lives. Draco had pushed up her nightdress, his tongue moving between her legs, lapping at her as if he were starving, devouring her, claiming her.

When Harry had moved behind her, kissing her with just a bit of fumbling, a bit of hesitancy and shyness as Draco had kissed her elsewhere with passion and need, she’d known she was lost to them for as long as they’d have her. She was their balance, the gentleness to their often violent worlds, the one that brought soft, soothing caresses and warm curves and tenderness to what had always been rough and desperate. Together, the three of them became one, bodies tangling until they had no idea who was touching whom and just escaping in pleasure, pain, and lust.

Somewhere along the way, it had become more. Harry loved her. She knew that from the look in his eyes when he simply watched her reading or the slight quirk of his lips when she came from work and he’d silently join her on their sofa to massage her tense shoulders. They didn’t have to speak the words, though there were nights when they would spill from swollen lips, urgent and breathless. _Love you. Need you. Mine. Always mine._ She knew he loved Draco in a different way, just as she did. It was tumultuous, consuming, passionate, lacking the gentle silent understanding that they shared.

Draco did not understand the silent looks, the smiles, the way they showed love without needing to speak soppy words and make poetic declarations. He got frustrated, annoyed, lashing out and trying to hurt, not believing their actions, _needing_ to hear words he’d never heard. Sullen and bitter when they failed to give him what he wanted, what he needed, refusing to believe their sincerity if words were spoken without bodies tangled together, sweaty and smelling of sex.

He did not understand that love was separate from sex, that love transcended the physical joining of their bodies and became something so special and that emotions were real even when they were not having sex. To him, they were one and the same, and he had to hear it whispered breathlessly before coming, moaned in his ear in the aftermath of orgasm, spoken as often as possible so that he _could_ believe it was real.

They were so different in many ways, yet she felt love for them both, knew they loved her in their own ways and loved each other even if they never spoke of that emotion between themselves. She was their safe harbor, in a way. They could love her and, by extension, admit emotion for one another without saying words that might sound hollow or ruin the dynamic of rough passion that existed between them. Brushing her lips against Draco’s hand, she asked, “Who is wrong, love?”

“My father.” Two words spoken that caused her hands to tighten their grip.

“What was he wrong about, Draco?” This time it was Harry speaking, comfortable now to talk because she was there, the balance was back with her presence and he could show he was worried, that he cared, without being concerned about looking weak or giving without taking.

“What was he right about?” Draco muttered, long fingers moving into Hermione’s hair, pulling the pins free so he could tug at her curls. His lips crashed down on hers, more rough than he’d ever been with her, Harry usually taking the brunt of Draco’s forceful behavior. When Harry’s hands moved to pull her back, Draco released her lips, his eyes not looking away from hers as he growled a soft warning at Harry.

“It’s okay, Harry,” she said finally, a bit scared of the intense look in Draco’s eyes but trusting him not to hurt her.

It didn’t take long for her clothes to be ripped from her body, soft gasps following the tearing of material. Lying on the bed, she watched the glint of metal in the candlelight, her fingernails digging into her palms as it pierced her skin. Her eyes moved to Harry’s, letting him know it was okay, that it hurt but she knew Draco needed this somehow. He was clenching his fists, a muscle in his jaw twitching, and she watched him flinch every time the blade made another cut along her chest, breasts, and stomach.

“He was wrong. Always wrong,” Draco muttered as he stared at the cuts bleeding slowly, fingers moving into her blood. He looked up at her, his pale blond hair falling around his face, a confused expression on his face. He wasn’t traditionally handsome, all sharp angles and pale skin, but she found him beautiful in his own way, just as he found her lovely despite being nothing more than an average witch with messy hair and lips that were too thin and a body that was womanly curves instead of stick-figure thin and svelte.

A part of her knew it was wrong that she was wet. She should not have been aroused by the shallow cuts he had made, should not be resisting the urge to whimper as his fingers spread her blood over her body. Being the total focus of Draco’s intense attention was unnerving, arousing, exciting, and a bit scary in that safe way she’d become familiar with over the past few months.

 

Draco brought the knife to his chest, cutting a line just above his heart, his eyes never leaving hers. “I bleed the same blood, Hermione. How can yours be filthy and worthless when it’s the same as mine?”

She watched him move his bloody fingers over his chest, rubbing the blood from his wound on his pale skin. A soft moan escaped her lips as he licked his fingers, his gaze still on her, confused and uncertain but gradually seeming to understand.

“We taste the same,” he whispered softly, putting the knife down beside them. His hands moved over her breasts, bloody and pale, nipples hard and straining. “He died today. My father died today. I received the owl at work telling me, and my first thought was _good_. I loved my father, listened to him most of my life, and I almost allowed his lies to destroy my world. I won’t let him spoil everything I’ve found, won’t let his lies ruin my future…our future.”

Before she could reply, he was thrusting into her, burying himself completely inside her with one rough shove forward. She cried out from the force, her hips rolling up to meet him. She saw Harry behind his shoulder, eyes concerned for both of them, not understanding what Draco was doing, worried about them. He didn‘t realize that Lucius’ death had reminded their lover of old prejudices, of things he’d never let go despite their relationship, and that this, this soft exploration of her body with a blade, had been closure for him. She understood, though. He’d not needed to say a word, simply looking at her with his gray eyes, and she’d known what he needed, what he wanted.

His lips claimed hers, sharing the taste of blood, indistinguishable as she sucked his tongue, coppery bitterness belonging to them both becoming one flavor. Rolling them so he was on bottom, he began to lick her chest, sucking her nipples, his lips red with blood as she rode him slowly, deeply, letting him thrust up into her with as much force as he craved.

Harry’s hands, rough and caloused, moved over the contours of her back, spine, and arse. His glasses were tossed to the floor, landing on her pile of clothes, his tongue licking a path down her spine to tease at her arse. Fingers coated with sticky lube, just a tad too cold, slid inside her, getting her ready, scissoring and twisting, her body relaxing so he could join them. When he pressed into her, she felt complete, just as she always did when caught between the men she had surprisingly grown to love.

It was the only thing she’d ever really truly done that hadn’t been planned, at least a little. It had been unexpected, catching her by surprise, a sudden decision that changed all their lives. For the better. Separately, they were lost, alone, drifting through life. Together, they were safe, secure, loved. Feeling Draco nibble at her breasts, Harry’s breath warm on her neck as he licked and sucked, both of them moving inside her, their rhythm perfectly in tune, three bodies becoming one, she knew she had been wrong that first night. She hadn’t been lost to them. She had finally been found.

The End


End file.
